


Lavender Suited Him

by thalialunacy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-19
Updated: 2008-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where George runs into Fred's ex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavender Suited Him

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing/characters: George Weasley. Secondary Ron/Hermione. Secondary Fred Weasley/canon-character-that's-so-obscure-he's-practically-an-OC.  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.  
> Prompt: #391: Harry Potter: Fred and George Weasley. George thought he knew everything about Fred, until one day a Wizard hit on him, thinking he was Fred.  
> Summary: See prompt. XB  
> Author's Notes: Notes: Not epilogue-compliant, although up for interpretation. The Lexicon went down and my books are packed, so... any mistakes (and Americanisms) are my own, with apologies.

The door bell tinkles merrily over his head as he steps through it, and George sniffs in the smell of paper and ink. Surprisingly nice after a day in his own shop, which smells like a combination of rubber chickens, bubble gum, and baby poo. He's quickly approached by a tall witch and a tentative smile. "Can I help you, Mr Weasley?" She carefully avoids looking at the side of his head.

George manages not to look annoyed. "No, thank you, I'll just—" His eye catches on a sign he's never noticed before, one that proclaims simply 'This way!' in candy-floss-pink lettering above a glittery arrow that points up the stairs and towards the back. "What's that about? Something new?"

The witch starts, and her eyes get so wide he reluctantly wonders if she's about to have a fit and he's going to have to call for help. "You—er—well—" She stops short and gathers herself, much to George's relief. "Go and have a look, then. We'll be here when you—I mean, _if_ you have any questions."

George raises an eyebrow at her but nods and makes his way up the stairs. It's not difficult to find the section specified by the sign—the normally sedate wood of the bookshelves is painted the same gregarious pink. George blinks at all the colour, and then moves closer to the books.

"Fabulous Frida's Guide to Lavender London? The Best of Witch-on-Witch Love? How to Tell Your Parents Your Wand Points the Other Direction?" He runs his fingers along the spines, a glint in his eyes. "Oh, _excellent_. This will be the perfect birthday present. Hermione will keel right over." He grins. "And Ron will have an attack for sure." He stands there for a while, his finger tapping his chin, trying to pick the tome his future sister-in-law would find the most egregious.

"Weasley, you bummer!"

He barely cognates the words before a compact whirling dervish envelopes him a bear hug the likes of which he hasn't gotten since...

Well, for a while now.

The dervish speaks but doesn't loosen its grip. "I've missed you so!" a trilling tenor voice exclaims. His breath is in George's ear and it's strangely intimate and George doesn't suppress a bit of a shudder. But the stranger keeps hold of him and the chatter keeps coming, peppy and insistent. "Lisbon was _fab_ ulous but it was far too much time without _you_! Next time, I'm getting you to come with me, by hook or by crook, no matter what excuse you throw at me."

Then, just as quickly as he was captured, George finds himself relinquished and held at arms' length by a petite—and fit, he notes absently—wizard ensconced in ridiculously lavender robes. "Oh!" the man says in distressed tones. "Freddie, darling, you're not eating enough! Look at you, thin as a supermodel!" He reaches in and pecks a quick kiss on George's cheek.

George opens his mouth but finds he has _no_ bloody clue what to say.

It's not that he's not used to being mistaken for his twin, or to the searing pain that accompanies the occurrence now. Every time someone stares at him then averts their gaze, every time one of his other brothers starts with the wrong name but only gets through 'Fr—', he swears it's getting easier.

But _this_...

His brain is click-clacking with confusion, nonsensical puzzle pieces of knowledge searching desperately for a way to fit together.

"Freddie?" The man is looking at him quizzically now, his eyes wide and a bit lost. "Freddie, I heard something happened to you during the war, but information was scarce in Lisbon and no one was really sure what..." The grip on George's arms tightens. "But you're alright, right? I mean, you're here—" He nods at the wall of pink books. "—and you're in one piece—" His eyes move to the side of George's face, and he grimaces slightly. "—mostly, and it doesn't matter that you're too thin, you still look good enough to eat, I swear—"

 _Enough._

"Fred's dead."

George isn't sure whether to be amused or offended by how quickly the he stranger lets go of him.

" _What_?" The man's hand flies to his throat, and the word is no more than a whisper. "You're not... Freddie?"

"No." George wonders how he can get away from this strange little man, get his shopping done and get out of there. "I'm his brother, George. Fred died six months ago. And I’m not sure how you can possibly know my brother as well as you seem to and not have heard that."

"Well, I—" He wrings his hands, his eyes brightening with the beginnings of tears. "I've been away. I finished at Hogwarts two years before Fr—before you, and my work sent me to the continent for training. When the fighting got to its worst, it was nearly impossible to get a PortKey back without either a high security clearance or a lot of blackmail material." He juts his chin out a bit. "And I had neither."

George nods, telling himself he'll turn away soon, but he has to ask. He just has to. "So how do you—" He clears his throat. "—how did you know Fred?"

"Oh, I—" His skin mottles pink. "He... Well, we..." He stopped, clearly unable to continue.

"Go on, spit it out. He's dead; it can't hurt him."

His eyes flash indignantly. "Like hell it can't." Then his face crumples. "I can't believe he's dead. _Oh_ , Freddie."

George grimaces, trying not to let the man's obviously heartfelt grief trigger any of his own. "You didn't answer my question, mate," he says roughly. He suddenly realizes he hasn't found out the bloke's name, either.

The stranger—Fred's friend, not a stranger, George reminds himself—seems to realize it at the same time. He wipes his eyes quickly, composing himself. "I'm Summerby, by the way. Alcott Summerby. You probably don't remember me. In school, I was... quiet."

George raises an eyebrow. He thinks he does sort of remember him, the tiny Hufflepuff Seeker with crooked teeth and spots who never seemed to talk.

"I met Fred at school, but we didn't become—friends until after I was through."

The real meaning echoes in George's brain, but he refuses to acknowledge it. "He never mentioned you."

Alcott's eyes are shuttered with an old hurt. "I know. He... he thought his family wouldn't... " Then he brightens a bit. "But here you are, so obviously he was wrong!"

"Beg pardon?"

His eyebrows draw together. "This—" He nods at the rows of books beside them. "Have you never seen these before?"

George hesitates, knowing the answer is important, but finally shakes his head reluctantly.

"Oh." Alcott's eyes widen, his hand covering his mouth. "Oh!"

Then a huge smile lights up his face and he launches himself at George again. "Welcome!" George is too stunned to move away, and when Alcott pulls away, he nearly stumbles. "Fred would be so proud! I mean, they say it runs in families but everyone just assumed it was Percy, that rat, and Fred never thought you would give it even _half_ a go, what with that Angelina and—"

"Hang _on_ a minute! What the buggering hell are you babbling about?" There's a clanging in his head and he feels a bit sick, like he's had too many sweets.

Alcott's eyes sparkle and the smile doesn't leave his face as he links his arm in George's and begins down the stairs. "Let's go and get a coffee, honey. We have a lot to talk about."

 

FIN


End file.
